Lazy Sunday in Brooklyn

Well here I am, only a day after I last wrote! Are you proud of me?

I felt a bit guilty that my last post was overwhelmingly negative. As, I am in New York City after all. I think that is the problem with New York - visitors expectations are unbelievably high. So I think it can be a tad anticlimatic when one finally finds himself or herself here. I got the same reaction from all of my friends when I mentioned that I wasn't enjoying myself very much here - "but, you're in New York?!?!" they may as well have said "what the hell is wrong with you?!!"

But, as I mentioned yesterday, I wasn't exactly very stoked about coming to North America in the first place and coming for so long, I guess I felt a bit trapped. I felt a lot of anxiety at having to spend about a month here. How would I pass the time, I thought to myself...

But anyway, only two more days left in New York and I'm finally starting to really enjoy myself here.

Had an extremely pleasurable day today. Started off with a workout at the gym, then fruit salad, yoghurt and rolled oats for breakfast with a coffee from Cafe Orwell - the cafe next to the hostel. I then jumped on the subway and headed to Smith Street.

I am not even sure what suburb this is but it is South-West Brooklyn. Smith Street is a strip of lots of cafes, bars and clothing stores. I had a look around before deciding to walk to Prospect Park - a few kms away.

Before I headed off I grabbed an iced coffee from a street-side store. The friendly African-American dude behind the counter asked me if I worked around the area. When I said no he said something along the lines of "yeah because I never see pretty girls like you around here". Not used to such comments I blushed and made some awkward remark. But he gave me the iced coffee for free against my objections - who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth...

I headed to Prospect Park and soon decided that black skinny leg jeans were a bad choice for the scorching hot day. I tried to roll them up but by the time I arrived at the park I was sweating profusely and desperately looking around for a shady corner where I could eat my lunch and read Steppenwolf. I found myself a nice spot on a grassy bank underneath a big oak tree overlooking the park. There were happy Brooklyners everywhere - playing various sports, lazing on the grass reading like me or playing with their kids. Ah this is the life, I thought sleepily to myself.

I walked through the park which is absolutely stunning. Less manicured than Central Park - there were parts where I was the only person walking down the path and it felt almost more like a forest. A really lovely spot.

After doing my park thing I decided to head to the Brooklyn Bridge and walk across. It turned out I wasn't the only tourist with this bright idea as me and hundreds of other sightseers trudged along the bridge in the hot sun. It was nice to get amongst the sea breeze though and the views from the bridge are amazing. So, definitely worth braving the crowds!

I then went to my new favourite store - Whole Foods - and bought my new favourite guilt-free treat - a sugar-free blueberry scone, along with a magazine and a bottle of NZ savignon blanc. Which I'm just about to open and enjoy as the last of the sun slips away and provides the city with some much needed cool relief...

Here is my song of the day for today, I thoroughly recommend you listen to this - Beirut at his/its best! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0VyPeQzb6FY

I'm back!

Dear blog readers,

I apologise profusely for my prolonged absence!

Things got a bit crazy in Peru - running about from city to city on a timetable. But, that is no excuse. I have been very lazy.

So, I will leave picking up where I left off to another day - there is just too much to write about!

I am in New York at the moment and have been here for a week and a half now. I will be honest, I was absolutely miserable when I arrived. I found it incredibly unsettling after being in South America for over 3 months, then heading to LA for a crazy, 3-day-long music festival and then arriving here. I know New York is hailed as a kind of mecca amongst people that I normally associate myself with. The 'old' Lucy, the Melbourne Lucy held New York on a lofty pedastal - the capital of culture, the headquarters of creative hipsters around the world.

However, the signs that New York may not titilate me at this point in my life were there from before I had even arrived. Geoffrey, my 6 week travel companion in Ecuador and Peru, questioned my decision to come to the US, and New York in particular, numerous times. An awesome couple from Colorado that we met in Peru also voiced doubt regarding New York. Both Geoffrey and Connor (the guy from Colorado) cited its shere magnitude as a reason for avoidance. I couldn't really understand their viewpoint and tried to describe to them the beliefs held by us creative Antipodeans that see New York as a centre for all things cultural, and for me specifically, the centre of all things indie music.

I guess hearing these things back in Peru sowed the seed of doubt somewhere deep in my subconscious. I also started to become somewhat anxious about coming to the US due to the expense involved. Friends and family tried to allay this fear by saying that it was the best time of all to go to the US moneywise because of the comparative exchange rate.

So, I guess when I arrived here, I wasn't exactly holding an open mind regarding my enjoyment of the place. Feeling uprooted from my normal 'routine' of moving every few days in a place was also unsettling. As was being out of South America. It isn't an easy area to travel by any stretch of the imagination but that made it challenging, exciting. I also missed the beautiful countryside and observing the simple, uncomplicated lives of the locals. I had arrived back in the first world. And I wasn't ready for it.

All of these ideas, thoughts and feelings came to a head after my first day or two in New York. I was also missing Geoffrey a great deal and finding it frustrating not being able to contact him - as he was back to work in the 'middle of nowhere'. However, I was aware that these issues were the root cause of my despondency and tried to 'think' my way out of my mindframe.

I succeeded, somewhat. But have still battled to really engross myself in New York and all it has to offer. I feel like this amazing, vibrant city is wasted on me at the moment - me, the self-professed gypsy, longing for the craziness and mayhem of South America.

However, in the past few days I have managed to get into the spirit of things a bit more. But, I fear that for Chris (my travel buddy here) at least, I am frightfully boring. It is currently a Saturday night at 9:30pm and instead of going out partying I am sitting here writing my blog! Albeit I have had a couple of wines so I am not ready to be shipped to the retirement home just yet! I just would rather settle into bed with my latest book - Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse - than go out partying and drinking alcohol with a whole bunch of people I don't know.

So, I am kind of looking forward to leaving New York on Tuesday and heading to San Francisco which I'm sure will be much of the same but perhaps will provide me with a bit more of the physical beauty and pleasant weather that I have been craving. I am really looking forward to seeing my Aunt Penelope in the Napa Valley - for the reasons of spending time with a blood relative and also for experiencing the notorious beauty of that region. After seeing Pen and exploring San Fran for a few days I am heading to Northen California to meet Geoffrey to camp in the infamous Redwood Forest which will hopefuly satisfy my craving for nature and a more simplistic lifestyle.

God reading the above I am aware that I am starting to sound like my 'hippie' parents who at my age moved to the middle of nowhere in Australia to make babies and live off goats cheese that they made themselves...

But, in short, these are the things that I do love about New York:
1. The Tribeca Film Festival which is on at the moment - I have seen three AWESOME films: Beware the Gonzo; Road, Movie; and, my favourite, Loose Cannons - an awesome Italian film about homosexuality and conservatism (but with lots of laughs in between). The directors of each film have been at all screenings and have taken part in Q and A afterwards. At 'Road, Movie' they even had the lead actors there which was great. Oh and I also saw Steven Spielberg!
2. Bedford Ave, Williamsburg. I love this street. I could sit for hours in El Beit (pictured) eating their housemade banana and walnut bread, drinking coffee and watching the hipsters out the window. Seriously, I have never seen so many pairs of skin tight black jeans and pensive expressions in my life! It is cool though. Almost too cool. It's never good to feel like you have to dress up (or dress down - or whatever, just dress on the absolute cutting edge of indie-rock-hipster fashion) to go out for coffee. But, I still love it.
3. The unAmericanness of it all. I was thinking today as I sat on the subway - 'where are all the obese people?'. Not here. Obviously in Austin, Texas. Or Oklahoma. Or, I dunno. But this is also what I don't like about New York - I kind of like being like "oh, look at that sign, it's so... american!".
4. How it reminds me so much of Melbourne.
5. Whole Foods supermarkets. Although this isn't specific to New York. Why haven't they come up with something like this in Australia? Australia's grocery stores and supermarkets are horrifically expensive and of poor quality compared to the US I am ashamed to say... They even have sugar-free baking for the health conscious! Sugar free blueberry scones for under $2? Stop it Wholefoods!
6. Central Park. Any city with a large, central, public park (I'm also thinking Skansen in Stockholm) deserves an award for extremely clever city planning.
7. The countless museums (have visited the Metropolitan and the Muesuem of Modern Art so far...)
8. The subway. So easy and cheap!

And of course, lots of other things. I just thought I should say something positive about New York as up til that point this post had been overwhelmingly negative.

Well, I hope whoever is reading this is well and happy. I miss you all a lot, which is another reason for my despondency of late, I think I have just experienced all I can really get out of this trip. I am sick of sightseeing and feeling obligated to go out and see the sights of a place. I have been SO spoiled in the last few months regarding the locations I have been and the amazing things I have seen (Machu Picchu, the Amazon, the Sacred Valley in Peru... the list goes on!). I think it is time to return to the 'normal' life of working and/or studying and come back to travel with fresh eyes and a bored soul. That way I may appreciate it slightly more.

Ok well I promise to write something else soon. Until then friends!

A bit about buses and the beginning of our Peruvian adventure

Well I am writing this sitting in the lounge of Caroline Lodging in Huaraz, Peru. Huaraz is the closest village to the Cordillera Blancas range in Peru – with many mountains closeby over 6000m.
We arrived this morning at 7am from Trujillo. When we boarded the bus last night, both Geoffrey and I struggled to contain our joy at the fact that the bus was much far flasher than anything either of us had experienced in Peru or Ecuador previously. Ecuadorian buses were incredibly cheap but were often crammed with locals and the seating lacked a ‘recline’ function. They also didn’t really have the option of night buses. The one night bus we did take to cross the Ecuadorian/Peruvian border was pretty hellish. We were in the front two seats and our legs were kind of jammed up against the front. Not ideal when one is attempting to sleep. So anyway, we embarked the flash bus to find soft blankets on our chairs and a serious recline option. There was even an air-hostess type of chica, let’s call her a bus hostess, who made an announcement when the bus began rolling on out of Trujillo. I think I might have actually squealed when the movie started and it had English subtitles! As anyone who has been to South America will understand, every single bus plays well-known American movies in extremely loud, badly dubbed, Espanol. And it is very rare for them to cater for the one or two gringos on the bus by selecting the Ingles subtitle function. It was a pretty crap movie (Sweet November with Charlize Theron and Keanu Reeves) but I was just happy to have a distraction other than playing my ipod over and over again.

So anyway, I was happy as larry staring up at the screen and ignoring Geoffrey’s attempts at conversation and criticisms of the sappiness of the movie. We even got served a snack about half an hour into the journey – a little bun with tuna spread and a melting moment (or yoyo) shortbread thing. Yum! You gotta love free food. Anyway, both of us managed to get a pretty decent amount of sleep and so when we arrived in Huaraz this morning we weren’t feeling as bad as was possible. The only problem was that I woke up at about 5am extremely short of breath. As I have mentioned earlier in the blog, I have been having trouble at altitude. My GP prescribed me an inhaler last winter as I was experiencing similar symptoms in Melbourne. Apparently I was displaying the symptoms of adult asthma. I went to buy some more seretide today actually but Geoffrey talked me into waiting a day to see how I feel as the inhaler was about $40 (not cheap for Peru!). So anyway, woke up in the middle of the night panting, it is a really horrible feeling – feeling like you are not obtaining enough oxygen in each breathe you take. I fell back asleep but had dreams in which I wasn’t able to breathe and I met a man who told me I had to take it easy for a few days and acclimatise (probably quite sound advice even from a dream character!).

We managed to find a taxi easily enough to the hostel after disembarking the bus, he was a really friendly local asking us where we were from and telling us about Quichuan (the indigenous language of the Andes region – both in Ecuador and Peru). We arrived at the hostel to be greeted by Teo and Caroline (father and daughter) who showed us our room. It was pretty dark and dingey but for $12 a night for both of us including a buffet breakfast every morning we weren’t complaining. We fell straight asleep, slept through the alarm and woke up at 11am!

After a shower for me (Geoffrey couldn’t be bothered to my dismay – imagine not showing after a night bus! Eek) we set off to explore Huaraz. Our little expedition did not start out very promising as we realised we had forgotten the Lonely Planet which had all of the information about where we wanted to go. I must admit I did take it out on Geoffrey somewhat, poor thing. I felt a tad cranky after a long journey and rapid ascent to 3100m. We set out for Cial, a bus company, to buy our tickets to Lima for the 25th (we nearly didn’t make it here after our first choice of bus company was completely booked out). We had to check out of our room, jump into a cab from Huanchaco to Trujillo, run into the bus company, buy two of the last 4 or 5 tickets left and then taxi back to Huanchaco. So, in order to avoid that, we decided to spend today chilling out and acclimatising and sorting out administrative tasks like buying our bus ticket and planning the tours we were going to take for the next few days.

It turned out that Cial did not have an afternoon bus so we set out for Movil Tours, the super flash bus company that brought us to Huaraz. After a few teeny arguments regarding directions, we finally stumbled across Movil Tours after following the directions of an uncharacteristically friendly guard. Tickets purchased, we started to walk back to the hostel when it started to rain.

Up until this point, I had been wearing a singlet and long pants but as soon as the rain started it became very cold. We sought shelter under an awning and decided to use the internet while we waited out the shower. The weather here looks like it will be very inconsistent. The town is in somewhat of a valley next to a couple of glacial rivers. It is very pretty, you can see a lot of mountain peaks close by. The town itself is not very pretty however, following the general theme we have discovered so far in Peru regarding construction – houses here are either slum-like shacks or badly built structures with wires and construction materials poking out everywhere. It seems that they build one level at a time but half build the next level. I am sitting on a terrace at the moment and nearly every surrounding building has the beginnings of another level on its roof.

The people here are much like the indigenous people in the Andean regions of Ecuador. The only difference, funnily enough, being in the hats that they wear. They are essentially the same style as the Ecuadorian pork-pie or trilby hats except they have wider brims and higher tops. The women’s hats also have designs on the side whereas in Ecuador it was not uncommon to see a feather. Here, a common design seems to be a bow-tie ribbon that is layered over and over and kind of julienned.

During our breakfast this morning (not at the hostel as we slept through, at a place on the way to bus terminals – mine included what was described as bircher muesli and which was in actual fact fruit salad, yoghurt, chocolate sauce and corn puffs – yuck! That is the last time I am making the mistake of ordering bircher muesli in Peru...) we had a couple of old indigenous ladies come up to us begging for change. Geoffrey is a bit tougher than I am so we kind of sat there in awkward silence with a plate of steaming scrambled eggs in front of us while this poor old lady stood there pleading with us. I felt like a stupid gluttonous rich Westerner actually, it wasn’t very pleasant. Perhaps next time I will just give them a coin or two.

Sorry as usual I am veering off on tangents left, right and centre. So after sheltering in the internet cafe, we set out for Andino Cafe – a cafe I had found on the Lonely Planet’s website that promised a ‘groovy’ hang out spot with home-roasted coffee (something that is EXTREMELY rare in South America) a big book exchange and board games. When we arrived I was stoked, it was an awesome space to hang out in with a really nice third floor terrace overlooking the street. We grabbed Monopoly and ordered half a litre of French-pressed cafe (para Geoffrey) and half a litre of Chai (para me) and a slice of banana bread each. It sounds stupid but you really do appreciate the ‘gringo’ places when you do stumble across them. It is nice to know what you’re getting and to order something that is similar to what you could get at home. So the afternoon passed very pleasantly even if Geoffrey did ‘whoop’ my ass in Monopoly. Which I was a bit annoyed about, after all Monopoly is one of my favourites! He stealthily pursued all of the railroads which meant I had to pay him $200 a pop everytime i landed on one (which happened frequently).

On our way back to the hostel we stopped at another cafe so I could look at their book exchange selection (I am obsessed – I check every book exchange – not being able to buy novels in English here is pretty rough) and we saw a flyer for a cinema that was playing The Hurt Locker that night. Apparently it won 6 Oscars including best film? Shows how long I’ve been out of the loop...

So, at 8pm we headed to the cinema. They bought out popcorn in paper cones (included in the 5 sole price – about $1.50) and we bought (Geoffrey bought) a few beers and we settled in to watch the movie. It wasn’t exactly light-hearted but it was a perfect way to finish an awesome first day in Huaraz. Day two – the Chavin ruins (3000 year old ruins 3.5 hours from Huaraz). More on that later!

Montanita part 2

Well, while I lose momentum I had better start with the second half of my Montanita story.

Firstly, let me just say that I am sitting on the deck of my hostel (Izchayluma - it is AMAZING, if you ever come here you must stay at this hostel) in Vilcabamba. Lonely Planet was not lying when it said the restaurant deck has the best views in town. We are staying in a gorgeous cabin-esque room with outdoor-style shower made out of stones all for $14 a night (including buffet breakfast). 'We' is Geoffrey and I. I will explain later in this post...

So, where was I?

That's right, I decided to stay in Montanita longer than expected. I can't really explain why but I just felt a really strong urge to stay, or more likely, a strong dread at the thought of leaving.

So, after making my decision, I decided to go out for dinner with all of the other students. As I had been having private classes and when I wasn't at class I was hanging out with Bree, I had kind of stuck to myself somewhat. But as I had decided to stay another week, I thought it was time to start being a bit more social. Bree had also left so it was a good opportunity for me to get off my antisocial ass and get to know some of the other students.

At dinner I was next to and opposite two Swedes called Cecelia and Bjorn. As most of you know, I have a slight obsession for all things Swedish so had a good chat to them both about living in Stockholm and about Swedish bands that I like. I had also noticed another guy hanging around with them who looked very Scandinavian and kind of kept to himself (even though Cecelia came right up and sat down next to me and introduced herself while I was waiting for my teacher one day) so I assumed he was another timid Scandinavian or Northern European. However, on the way from the restaurant to the bar I started chatting to him. Which, as an aside, wasn't exactly a bar. More like a shack on Montanita's infamous 'cocktail alley'. Which is exactly what it sounds like.

So anyway, turns out he is from Portland, Oregon and, like me, is a bit of a Swedophile. He met Cecelia the year before traveling in Nepal and they had decided to meet up again in South America. We got on really well immeditely, talking about music, books, travel, politics and much more. Geoffrey is one of the couple of Northern Americans I have encountered on this trip who are rather apathetic towards their home country, especially concerning politics. He actually spends 6 months of every year traveling - spending the other 6 months working in Northern California as a 'bombero de montana' or mountain fire fighter.

So I was pleased to find out that the next week Bjorn and Geoffrey and I would all be in the same class. The week generally progressed like this: 7:30 wake up; 8:00am class - fight over who would make coffee; 10am go to Tiki Limbo (local cafe that randomly played the Black Seeds, Fat Freddy's Drop and Katchafire every single morning despite the fact that I couldn't spot a single kiwi in the place) for Huevos Rancheros, freshly squeezed watermelon juice and coffee; 11am chill poolside; 12:50pm go to one of the juice vendors on the street and order a smoothie or a juice; 1pm class; 3pm internet or chill poolside; 5-7pm surfing under the sunset; 8pm dinner at one of the many awesome restaurants in Montanita; 9:30pm pina colada on cocktail alley. Let's just say it was a very relaxed and happy existence.

Needless to say Bjorn, Geoffrey and I soon became a bit of a trio - spending nearly all of our time together - in and out of class. Bjorn was the class clown, causing me to errupt into hysterical laughter many times during class - usually as a result of being rather sleep deprived due to the party atmosphere of Montanita. The all-female teaching faculty soon became smitten with him and started referring to him as El Oso (the Bear - which is the direct translation of Bjorn). This progressed to El Oso Peligroso (the Dangerous Bear), El Oso Perizoso (the Lazy Bear) and El Oso Mentizoso (the Lying Bear).

However I suspect we also obtained a slight reputation for being snobby. Sometimes we preferred to hang out just us three (and occassionaly Grant - an amiable Aussie guy who started tagging along on our daily breakfasts and dinners) than in the big mob of students that went out together every night. I also suspect that some of the teachers began to dislike me for this reason and also because both Bjorn and Geoffrey received an extreme amount of attention from all of the local gringo-hunters (I will explain this term later...) and I was constantly with both of them. One of my teachers even was quite openly rude to me (in my private class the next week) and would often question me about my relationship with both of them during class.

Probably my only negative comment about Montanita is the 'gringo-hunter' culture. Walking around the village both the boys and I would receive numerous looks and wolf-whistles from the local guys and girls. The local guys were mainly surfers and I think it is safe to assume that they live a pretty blissful existence for guys in their late teens and 20s - surfing during the day and picking up different Western girls every weekend. The girls weren't much better I'm afraid, with many openly coming on to Bjorn and Geoffrey in very public situations. It probably didn't help that both Bjorn and Geoffrey look fair and Scandinavian (Geoffrey's Mum is Norwegian), very exotic! Especially compared to me who could nearly pass for South American...

I was meant to leave at the end of the second week but early on in the week Geoffrey, Bjorn and I all decided to stay on as we wanted to continue with our Spanish and we were all having so much fun. The third week continued much as the second had, except for the fact that Geoffrey and I opted for private classes instead of group. I much preferred group classes due to one of my teachers being extremely unprofessional as described above and group classes were obviously much more fun and involved a lot more hysterical bouts of laughter (usually at Bjorn's expense).

I also made another decision - to continue to go South instead of North to Colombia. Geoffrey was off to Peru and the advantages of traveling with a companion outweighed my desire to go to Colombia. I also really wanted to go to Vilcabamba in Southern Ecuador. Coincidentally Bjorn was also meant to go to Colombia before meeting up with Geoffrey in Peru, however he decided to go to Galapogos as he didn't have enough time to fit in enough of Colombia. So the trio will be reunited in some rather extreme circumstances - Bjorn told Geoffrey and I about this Shamanic Healing Centre in Iquitos, Peru. It is the biggest city in the world inaccessible by road and is right in the jungle in the East of Peru. So, on April 3 Geoffrey and I are flying in to Iquitos and meeting Bjorn at the Shamanic Healing Centre for a few days for a spiritual journey of sorts. Watch this space... hopefully I don't turn into a South American hippie selling jewellery on the side of the road.

So, with an extremely heavy heart and an EXTREMELY sore head (due to blowing out somewhat on our last night in Montanita... it had to be done) we boarded the 10am bus for Guayaquil (Ecuador's biggest city) and farewelled our beloved Montanita. I managed to talk Geoffrey into going to Quito with me to pick up my bags (as I had originally only meant to leave Quito for 1.5 weeks but it ended up being 3.5 weeks... I only had a small backpack with me the entire time - I had to buy two dresses in Montanita as I became so sick of my limited wardrobe!).

Quito was pretty crap and very depressing after coming from Montantia. Although it was much nicer traveling with a male companion - I didn't get the usual whistles and threatening comments as I had on my previous two visits. We ended up staying two nights as we were so exhausted from the long bus journey and then we set off for Vilcabamba! But I will save that for another blog as this one is getting mighty long...

Until next time dear readers. Sorry for the haphazard nature of this blog (although you should be used to this by now...).

Montanita...

Firstly, I must apogolise for my extremely long absence!

I have been holed up in the small surf town of Montanita, on the east coast of Ecuador.

Although it is somewhat touristy, Montanita stole my heart. For 3 weeks at least...

I’m not sure exactly why, but Montanita really saved Ecuador for me. As is obvious from my posts to date, Ecuador has been somewhat of an emotional rollercoaster and many places I have visited here I have not exactly become enamoured with. My health has been crap, I failed to meet many people I connected with, I kept finding myself in extremely isolated spots sin any English speaking people, I fell out with my travel buddy etc etc...

There are many differences between Montanita and the other places I have visited in Ecuador, however the initial most obvious difference was of course in climate. Although Ecuador is situated on the equator, most of its major cities are located in the Andes. And while I enjoyed the mild temperatures of the mountain regions after the humidity of Rio, it was extremely pleasant to find myself back in a balmy climate. After all, the weather can have a vast effect on one’s mood.

We (Bree and I – the story of meeting Bree will have to wait for another post) arrived at night and set out looking for the Cabanas with which I had a reservation through the school. Expectations were not high as I didn’t really know much about the place and it was pretty cheap. However, as we were walking down the dirt road the Cabanas were apparently on, I noticed an establishment to the right with hammocks, a Jacuzzi, big pool and lots of young people playing around in the pool and drinking cerveza. We decided it was far too nice to be the school Cabanas and kept on walking. However, we realised we had gone too far and turned back and what do you know, the resort-esque place we had passed was the one! A good start to my time in Montanita...

The next day, I set off for school at about 7:45am and had my first lesson at 8am. I was very happy to be served a little fruit salad and freshly squeezed melon juice during my first class with Jenny, my teacher whose English was EXTREMELY basic. I quickly realised that I loved the routine of actually having something to get up in the morning for every day and getting back into learning something. I also had my first surfing lesson that day which I immediately loved. Getting out into the ocean for two hours every day soon became the highlight of my day, even if some days I failed to stand up much...

Another reason why Montanita will always hold a special place in my heart is it was the first time on my journey when romance really made an appearance. During my second surfing lesson, the instructor Isidro (a champion surfer and the town’s hero) invited me to watch a movie with him that night. As his English isn’t great and it was a bit of an awkard conversation anyway (I was literally lying on the board while he held onto it, waiting for a decent wave to come) I didn’t really understand if it was a date (just me and him) or a group thing with some of the other teachers and students as he told me to meet him at the school. However, as I was leaving the surfing workshop he had waited for me to walk out after the other students and organised a time with me to meet so I had an inkling it was more of a date type scenario. If I am being honest, I only really decided to go because I thought it would be a funny story to tell people back home and I was aware of the fact that at that point on the journey I was rather devoid of such stories. Not that I was dependent on having an element of romance on my trip but after a month and a half of not much on that front despite meeting new people constantly, I was starting to become rather concerned about my interestingness (I realise this is not a word) to the opposite sex. This may have also had something to do with what happened with Joel. Although I realised that he was the one with the problem etc etc, it was hard to not let that whole incident make me doubt myself a little.

So anyway, off I went to meet Isidro for our ‘date’. He was a really nice person and I had fun however I walked away with the impression that I was probably one of many Western wannabe-surfers that he arranges such movie nights with. Also the language barrier is pretty hard to overcome. It is difficult to really be interested in someone when you cannot communicate properly as you never really understand how they tick. However, I appreciated the situation for what it was and I would be lying if I said that my ego didn’t receive a slight stroking...

Friday rolled around and my ever-increasing dread at having to leave Montanita reached fever pitch. After my morning class I made a decision and set off for the internet cafe to let the people at the orphanage in Colombia know that I would be arriving two weeks later than my initial date. I felt a twinge of guilt at letting the organisation down, however I strongly felt that I needed to stay in Montanita.

Ok well this is not going to be finished soon so I will post half now in the interests of keeping you all (whoever you are) up to date...

The complete and utter failure that was the Quilotoa loop

Well well well. Sorry I have neglected you my faithful followers.

It has been a rather rollercoastery 10 days or so since my last post. Shall we try and pick up where we left off? I think we shall...

So, left Quito on the morning of Saturday, 13th February. Which also coincided with the first day of the Carnaval holiday. As it was a weekend day, the trole bus was running to a different schedule and by the time I got to Quitumbe station in Quito I was cutting it very close if I wanted to get to Latacunga in time for my connection to Quilotoa at 11am.

I raced through the terminal after buying my ticket only to find that the line for buses to Latacunga was over 100m long. As Ecuador is a developing country, not many people have private cars and many rely on public transport to get around (including going away for holidays). The buses were pulling in and out with no apparent method to their madness and the people in line were getting angrier and angrier. People kept changing lines and jostling and yelling at each other which was only making me more on edge as the minutes ticked away and I realised I might have to stay in Latacunga for a night.

I finally decided that come hell or high water I would get on a bus so I sifted to a different line near the front and joined in the throng pushing towards a bus. It was actually like a riot and I nearly lost my bag getting on. But get on I did. However, due to the public holiday and the fact that every man and his dog was leaving Quito, the traffic was terrible and our progress was slow.

Finally got to Latacunga about half an hour after my bus had left. As I was wandering along gazing perpexedly at the bus boleterias, a lovely British guy came up to me and asked where I was going. He then translated for me to the ticket person and I managed to at least find the company that should take me to Quilotoa.

I found the company and a man who pointed to a bus that reassuringly said 'Quilotoa' on the front. I took my seat and waited. Then a bus pulled up alongside of us and about 90% of the people on my bus got off, presumedly to get on the new bus. I tried to ask what the difference was between the two buses. I figured that one might go to Zumbahua and the other all the way to Quilotoa. However, trying to gather this information from the bus dude was somewhat difficult. He was rambling in extremely fast Spanish so I started saying 'mas despacio por favor' but he cut me off after despacio and said 'si, si, esta mas despacio'. He obviously thought I was asking if one of the buses was slower than the other. I have attempted to learn from this mistake by now always asking 'habla mas despacio por favor' when I want someone to slow down their speech!

Anyway, clambered back on bus numero uno and waited for the departure time of 2pm. The bus became incredibly packed and by the time we were leaving Latacunga I had not one but two elderly indigenous farmers in the seat next to me. The whole bus was full of men and women in their cool trilby hats with feathers sticking out of them. I love the indigenous dress that the women wear - it is almost like a uniform the variation from one to the next is so little. Patterned knee-length almost tulip-shaped skirt (usually in dark colours), stockings, little heeled loafer-type shoes, woollen cardie and aforementioned trilby or porkpie hat. Maybe I can bring the Ecuadorian indigenous farmer look to the streets of Melbourne?

Anyway, after a stunning drive (that reminded me a lot of New Zealand - dry, tussocky, mountainous - except more isolated and... Andean) we arrived at Quilotoa. Oh I must mention the little boy that was 'running' our bus. He was so cute. Had slicked-back hair stiff with gel (the little boys are partial to either a copiously gelled-up quiff here or a side part) and was sauntering up and down the aisle demanding money off some and ordering others around. When we dropped off most of the bus in Zumbahua I saw that he had a can of the foam stuff that they spray at people at Carnaval. I was scared. At one point, he opened the drawer, snatched the can and pretended to foam me in the face. I laughed nervously. I managed to get away unscathed but the poor girl who was dropped off before me walked away from the bus govered in the white shaving-cream-esque substance.

So, finally at Quilotoa now. It was magical. I went to have a look at the crater but it was shrouded with mist and I couldn't see anything down the helter-skelter sand-stone path that steeply dropped down to the lake's edge. It gave the whole town an eerie feel - mist creeping out of the crater and swirling around the little settlement. It was also freezing.

I found where I was meant to be staying (the Quilotoa Cabañas - described by one traveller as extremely basic and very poorly heated, I was apprehensive) and roughly managed to ask for 'una habitacion por una persona por esta noche por favor' and was shown to a 'dorm'. It had holes in the walls and was freezing but the double beds were covered in numerous layers of woollen blankets and it was cheap - $10 per night including breakfast and dinner. Apparently it was the best in the town. It gives you an idea of what the accommodation is like in some of these villages. At least they had accommodation I guess!

So, I walked into the communal area and the only other person in there was Ian, a guy from the US that I had met in Quito. Also a guy that had been traveling with Joel. I nearly fainted. One of the most isolated and hard to access places in Ecuador and I happen to run into one of a handful of people in this country that may possibly dislike me. Great. I wasn't sure how much Joel had told him but I assumed whatever he had said wouldn't exactly be positive. At the hostel in Quito we had all come to the conclusion that this guy was a little odd also - another reason why I wasn't exactly thrilled to be in his company.

Anyhow, he didn't seem to know too much or at least he didn't let on that he did, so it wasn't too bad. Some more people trickled in - a nice older Dutch couple, a couple of German girls, some Danish folks, a pair of Portugese dudes and an Irish girl and a Canadian girl who are working together in Quito teaching English. We had a nice dinner which consisted of soup, meat stew and vegetables and a tree tomato dessert, or, what we would call in New Zealand, tamarillo. Delicious! I never knew that one could make such desserts out of tamarillos but I intend to try and replicate this one it was so simple yet yummy.

Before dinner I had taken a couple of neurofen plus as I had a bit of headache from the long day of hustling and bustling. After dinner I didn't quite feel like my dinner was going down and as I lay in bed I felt like something was starting to come back up if you get my drift... So, I went downstairs to the bathroom and threw up. Half an hour later, I ran downstairs and threw up again. And so on. After the fourth time I decided to move to one of the beds downstairs to be closer to the bathroom. By this point I was kneeling on the freezing floor (specked with the remnants of my dinner) in only my undies as I had managed to throw up all over the floor and my own pants during round number 2. I also had nothing in my stomach by this point so it was becoming more and more awful and painful. I threw up all night and into the morning.

At about 10am I had to run downstairs (after thinking it might be over) for about the 12th time and up came a whole lot of black stuff. With blood in it. I was terrified. Here I was, in an extremely isolated area 4 hours from the nearest proper town. No doctor, I supposed, and even if there was a doctor, my Spanish was so limited I wouldn't know how to communicate my affliction. No one at the hostel spoke English and it was really difficult to even explain that I was sick and that I would like to stay another night. I was miserable. I started praying (to who I am not sure) to stop throwing up, and then at least I hoped I would begin the recovery period.

I managed to get up around 1pm and I asked to switch to a single person room. I bought a Sprite as I thought by this point I should try and drink some liquids as I knew I must be incredibly dehydrated. That didn't stay down long however so I went back to bed and slept through until evening. By this point I was managing to keep down some Sprite and water. I was ecstatic. One of the ladies knocked on my door and asked if I would like some food. I declined to be on the safe side but bought another Sprite. I couldn't actually finish this one but hey it was a start.

Ok well this is long and probably boring so I will finish this blog here and pick up where I left off shortly!

Goodbye Quito... you dirty hole of a city you

Well, as you can tell from the subject line - I have made a few not so tough decisions and I am leaving Quito tomorrow! Decided it was no longer conducive to my mental health to sit around pondering my life's direction in this city.

Not that I dislike the place but I definitely have mixed feelings towards it. It certainly is no Rio de Janeiro.

For one, the men are incorrugible! And the women. It seems a white face around here means a meal ticket to lots of the locals. And I don't mean to sound callous, but it just seems that is the way it goes. So many of the young guys staying at my current hostel are casually seeing Ecuadorian girls. One British guy, who is 19 (!), has managed to get himself into a rather sticky situation. He speaks no Spanish, she no English and apparently she expects him to pay for everything when they do together. I deduced that it must be a purely physical arrangement, but apparently not so. What, then, is the point one must ask?

So, I can't say I love that side of the culture here. For example, I went to buy some fruit this morning. I had just woken up and not showered. I was hardly looking my best. And, no exaggerration, literally 90% of the cars that passed me beeped at me. I got one guy smooch out of his window and another slow his car down and leer 'bonita!' at me. I think they just see that I am Western (I'm not even sure how really as I am rather tanned at this point... instinct?) and it is automatic to harrass in some manner. I find it really threatening and intimidating.

So it will be with an optimistic and eager spirit that I will leave Quito tomorrow. I am heading to 'one of the most spectacular sights' in Ecuador - the Quilotoa loop. Picture attached. It will be physically challenging in more ways than one. The roads are really bad and to get to the various villages it requires a combination of hiking, milk truck riding (sometimes on the top!), mule-riding or cycling. And the accommodation is apparently rather basic at some of the villages. And it is cold. And did I mention at a height of 3500m? So that is where I will be for Valentines Day. And Carnaval. Chilling out with some indigenous people by a huge lake. I am excited.

After Quilotoa I intend on going to Baños for a few days to soak my sore muscles in the hot water pools. Then on to Cuenca which is apparently beautiful and perhaps Vilcabamba before heading to Montañita, a small surfing village, where I am undertaking a Spanish course for a week. It is combined Spanish and surfing - 4 hours of Spanish a day and two hours of surfing. I can't wait!

Then hopefully perhaps a bit of the Amazon on my way out of Ecuador to... Colombia. I know this was not initially on the itinerary but I have heard SO many amazing things about Colombia I could not pass up the opportunity. And then the US. I will explain later.

Ok, love you all so much (whoever is reading this). Thank you all for the supportive messages during this somewhat gruelling week.